


I Waited For You Winterlong

by indevan



Series: Rock Band AU [26]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 06:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13094361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: It’s been some time since they’ve had time off.  Having the entire month of December is a strange luxury.  King Kai wants them to continue to strike while the iron is hot, but he’s allowed them this break





	I Waited For You Winterlong

**Author's Note:**

> [timeline!](http://vertigoats.tumblr.com/post/166537761367/since-after-the-first-few-the-fics-in-rock-band)

It’s been some time since they’ve had time off.  Having the entire month of December is a strange luxury.  King Kai wants them to continue to strike while the iron is hot, but he’s allowed them this break.

Broly, though, has no idea what to do with himself.  He obviously isn’t going home to spend time with his father, and Kale spends the holidays with Cabba’s family ever since her parents disowned her.  Since moving out of his father’s place, the holidays haven’t been that  _ huge _ of an issue since he would volunteer to pick up shifts at the small, privately-owned grocery store where he worked.  His co-workers would want to spend time with  _ their _ families and so he was there to help.  Unfortunately, the rising fame of the band and his commitment to it meant that he had had to quit his job at the grocery store before they left on the tour with U6.  Thus, Broly’s plan for spending the holidays  _ not _ thinking about the holidays has been foiled and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Spend it with me,” Turles says when he tells him and it takes him a moment to settle his heart.

Turles is saying it as a  _ friend, _ of course, as someone who’s from a similar background.  It isn’t romantic and it’s high time he told his heart to fucking  _ quit it, _ because it’s getting annoying.  Maybe it’s because his crush on Raditz dominated his teen years that he can remember the early stages of it almost fondly but realizing his feelings for Turles with adult eyes is just--painful.

“Can I?” he asks and shakes his head.

Turles shrugs. “Why not?”

They’re in a deli not far from the apartment--a deli where the owner knows Turles, knew his grandmother.  He’s never spoken of her in the time he’s known him and Broly realizes that he actually doesn’t know a whole lot about Turles’s life other than little tidbits he’s given him about his mother.

“He knew your grandmother?” he asks to change the subject because he isn’t ready to talk about the holidays yet, not really.

Turles acknowledges the change with an incline of his chin, but rolls with it.

“Yeah.  My dad’s mom.” He gives a soft smile that’s at odd with the bits of metal that are lodged in his face, at odds with his usual, self-assured smirk. “My bubbe was the best.  Even after my dad walked out, she was there for me.  If she could, she’d have taken me from my mom but she was already doing pretty shitty health-wise even when I was a kid.”

The smile flickers away but he turns and waves to the man behind the deli counter.

“She died when I was fourteen,” he says.  He drops his eyes. “Nothing could make me feel better except Radi, who knew what I was going through since his grandpa had died a couple years before.  That’s when I started figuring out that I liked him as more than a friend.”

Broly nods and puts his hands around his mug of coffee.  He never knew his grandparents.  The warmth of the liquid inside presses against the palms of his hands through the ceramic.

“Ah.” He doesn’t know what else to say and wishes he were better at this, or even someone like Kakarrot who just talks without thinking.  Even bonehead comments can be better than silence.

Turles takes a bite of his sandwich and grins through his full mouth.

“But, hey, celebrate with me.  I’m sure my bubbe would be happy.”

“Maybe.”

“C’mon.” He swallows and flashes the full wattage of his grin. “I make killer latkes.”

Broly lifts his eyebrow.

“You said you can only make edibles using a brownie mix.”

Turles clicks his piercing against the back of his teeth and laughs.

“Okay, fine.  I make Raditz make me latkes.”

\--

Bulma taps the bottom of her pen against the pad and raises her eyebrows.

“So we have my parents, my sister, your brother...who else?”

Vegeta makes a face and makes a sweeping gesture outward with his hand.

“Caulifla’s brother is working so she wants to come.”

Bulma nods and adds her name to the list.  It’s their first, real holiday together as a family.  She’s never had this, never been the host, and this is all new to her.  It’s weirdly fun and domestic to plan a sort of holiday dinner for their families.  It’s the closest the two of them (three, including Trunks) will ever get to some form of conventionality.

“What about your dad?”

“Fuck no.”

The response is immediate.  She  _ gets it, _ truly, but at one point, she would like to meet his father.  Maybe if the two of them talk, they can have some Hallmark Moment and start to rebuild their relationship.

“Goten!” Trunks slaps his hands on the surface of the table.  He’s currently strapped into his seat, supposedly eating broken up pretzel sticks, but he wants his opinion known.

“Goten’s going to be with his family, baby,” she tells him. “And no.”

“Want Goten!” he says and bares his teeth in agitation.

Bulma sighs and casts a glare at Vegeta.

“He gets this from you.”

“Sure he does.”

Deciding his help is no longer needed, her boyfriend leaves the table and goes to the living room to pick up his acoustic guitar from where he left it, leaning against the couch.

“What should we serve?” she asks.

Vegeta shrugs and slings the strap over his head.

“Food.”

Bulma sighs.  He’s been in a mood recently, and she isn’t sure if it’s the weather getting to him, the looming stress of the holidays or a good old misfire of the neurons in his brain.  They’ve  _ both _ been pretty bad, pretty volatile, the past couple of weeks.  Luckily, they’ve managed to steer that energy into talking it out rather than getting into fights, and she thinks that’s a sign of maturity.

“I’ve never done this before,” she tells him.

“And you think I have?” He fiddles with one of the tuners on the headstock and shakes his head. “My dad would invite me home the first couple years after I moved out but he gave up once he realized that I wasn’t going to force-feed myself stuffed shells and listen to him tell me how I’m broken as a person.  If we’re gonna talk, it’s gonna be on my terms and definitely not on fucking Christmas.”

Bulma doesn’t know what to say that will actually help so she goes with the tried and true method of humor as deflection.

“So no stuffed shells at our dinner?”

That gets a snort out of him, at least, and she considers it a victory.  Leaving the guest list alone for a moment, she unbuckles Trunks from his seat and sets him free.  The moment his feet hit the floor, he all but runs over to the couch.

“Show me!  Show me!”

Trunks’s newest obsession is making Vegeta show him stuff on guitar.  It’s extremely cute, but also only reminds her that this break will be over too soon and the new year will have him back at King Kai’s beck and call to record or promote or do whatever for the band.

Bulma casts one last look at the list on the counter before she heads over to join them.  Vegeta says he doesn’t want his father to come, but she thinks it would do him a lot of good to open a dialogue.  He and Tarble had a shitty relationship and now they’re much closer.  Surely the same could be achieved with him and his dad, right?

\--

The holidays have never been that big of a deal for Lapis.  He exchanged gifts with his sister and 16 but that was about the extent of it.  Their mother hasn’t spoken to him or Lazuli since the divorce and the less said of their father the better.

This year, the year he’s finally realized how serious he is about his boyfriend, he’s spending the holidays with him.  Lapis has gone to the occasional friday night dinner with Raditz but this is new territory.  This isn’t just him, his parents, and his brother with frequent cameos by Chi-Chi and Kakarrot’s sons.  This is their entire  _ family. _  It’s more than a little intimidating.

He doesn’t say it, though, because while he and Raditz have briefly talked about being serious, saying that being a part of a family holiday...thing is a big step would simply make everything weird.  He’s  _ met _ his parents before and he’s  _ had _ dinner with them, so this is just another dinner that happens to fall on a specific day.

He pulls up behind Chi-Chi’s parked car and kills the engine.  Raditz pokes his head out of the passenger seat and rolls his eyes.

“Dad, can you not be weird for, like, one minute?”

His father is outside with the pink Cadillac Raditz and Kakarrot bought for him wearing nothing but an old Giants sweatshirt and a pair of boxers bearing a chili pepper motif.

“Hello to you, too, Radi.”

“Why are you outside like that?” he asks. “It’s like thirty degrees.”

Bardock shrugs.

“Toma’s bringing his new boyfriend over today and I wanted the car to look good.”

“In your underwear?”

“Wasn’t gonna take long.”

Raditz shakes his head.  Lapis can’t help but be amused.  He truly does like his boyfriend’s parents.  They’re weird and their relationship isn’t exactly by the book but they genuinely still like one another and he can tell how much they love their kids.

“Uncle Toma has a new boyfriend?” he asks.

A nod.

“Yep.  He says he needs to run him by me and Fasha.”

“And his favorite godson,” Raditz adds, grinning.

Bardock cuffs him lightly on the chin.

“You’re his only godson.”

The three of them begin to walk up the frozen lawn to the trailer’s door.

“Hey, Lapis.”

“Hello,” he says back.

He’s never sure if he should call him Bardock or Mr. Son so he mostly doesn’t call him anything.  Once they’re inside, Bardock disappears down the hall presumably to put actual pants on, and Lapis is confronted with a full living room.  Kakarrot is reading on the couch with Gohan while Chi-Chi and a positively enormous man with a full beard and tiny glasses help Gine in the kitchen.  A woman with short hair and a leather jacket is holding a bottle of beer and interjecting with clearly unhelpful advice.  Lapis notices that Goten isn’t immediately crawling onto Raditz so it means that he must be taking a nap.

Raditz walks towards the kitchen to give his mother a kiss.

“Hey, ma.” He turns to the woman with short hair and kisses her cheek as well. “Hey, Aunt Fasha.  You’ve met Lapis, right?”

“I haven’t.  This is the boy?”

She lifts her beer bottle in a salute and Lapis waves back, feeling uncharacteristically unsure.  He doesn’t mind large groups of people but large group of people who are very important to his boyfriend and can pass judgment on his worthiness to be his partner is.  Disconcerting.  He carefully takes off his hat and gloves and stuffs them into the pockets of his jacket before hanging it up on the hook near the door.

“Hi,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

Fasha stares at him for a minute and then smiles.

“Nice to  _ finally _ meet you.” She casts a sly look at Raditz.

“Look, I’ve explained to him that I forget that he doesn’t already know you.  Lay off.”

Fasha reaches up to pinch his cheek and Raditz bats her hands away.

“Stop it!”

Everyone seems to be casually dressed and Lapis is glad that he took Raditz’s advice that “it’s not fancy!” to heart and wore a pair of black skinny jeans and a sweater.  It doesn’t escape his notice that his boyfriend even wears his sweaters a size too small although, right now, he’s stripped it off and is wearing a henley that can barely contain his chest and biceps.

_ Rein it in.  You’re at his family’s house. _

Lapis shakes his head and walks towards the kitchen to see what sides are being made.  That’s usually all he can eat, since he doesn’t eat meat.  It’s what he’s done on previous friday night dinners because he doesn’t want to force anyone to accommodate for him.  Eating is still an issue, too, which is more obvious at big gatherings.

“Hey,” Chi-Chi says with a smile. “You like eggplant, right?”

He notices that she isn’t wearing her engagement ring, which is safely around the small dowel rod on the paper towel holder.  In her bare hands, she’s holding a battered slice of the aforementioned vegetable.

“Uh.  Yeah?”

She flashes a smile to Gine. “See?  Told you he did.”

Gine gives a smile of her own. “Right, right.”

Lapis cocks a brow, not sure what they’re talking about.

“I made you eggplant parm,” Gine explains.

“You don’t have to,” he says automatically. “I’ll just eat sides.”

She shakes her head. “Of course I do.  You’re family.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that so he simply scuttles behind the giant man and escapes back to the living room.

He finds Raditz on the couch by Gohan.

“Kaka went to go wake Goten up and take him out of the Pack’n’Play.  It’s for the best if he doesn’t see me yet.”

Lapis snorts.  That’s the truth.

“Kaka?”

“We used to call him that as a kid,” he replies. “It never really stuck because it kinda sounds like shi--poop.  Poop.  Ka Ka.”

Gohan nods seriously. “It’s true.”

“We still use it sometimes.” Raditz pats the cushion next to him. “Sit.”

Lapis settles next to him.  He looks at the little chapter book Gohan is reading and then back up at his boyfriend’s profile.

“Did you tell your parents I was a vegetarian?”

“Uh, yeah.  Is that an issue?”

He shakes his head. “No, no.  I just wasn’t expecting it.  Thank you.”

It’s weird, having his boyfriend’s family refer to him as family and make sure he’s able to eat something at dinner.  It goes back to the fact that they’re serious, that they’re in this for the long haul.  Lapis has never gotten this far in a relationship and it’s all new ground.

It’s a little bit scary.

Kakarrot comes from the bedroom carrying a visibly grumpy Goten in his arms.

“You want a bottle, baby?”

He squints at them and buries his face in his father’s shoulder.  Lapis can only assume that he hasn’t realized Raditz is here yet.

Kakarrot bounces him in his arms and walks towards the crowded kitchen to the fridge.  At the same time the screen door bangs open and a tall, muscular man with light brown hair comes in.

“Hey, hey!”

Raditz’s face lights up so Lapis assumes that this is the famous Uncle Toma, teacher of drums and fixer of motorcycles.

Bardock, now fully dressed, comes up and exchanges a hug with him.  Fasha, too, hugs him while being careful about her bottle of beer.

“Where is he?” she asks.

Toma steps aside to show a much shorter, skinnier man standing behind him.  Lapis’s eyes go wide with realization and he puts a hand over his mouth to smother a laugh.  Raditz and Kakarrot, meanwhile, have so such compunctions and he’s certain that their laughter can be heard up and down the turnpike.

“What?” Toma asks. “What’s so funny?”

Raditz manages to stop his laughter enough to get a few words out.

“Hi, Jaco.”

\--

Broly draws his knees up and rests his chin on them.  He’s glad to be here, on this couch, eating Chinese food with Turles.

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

“Of course.”

Turles nudges him gently and smiles around his chopsticks.

“I’ve had to do this a lot on my own,” he continues, “since my bubbe died.  My dad sometimes calls on high holidays but that’s about it.  I’m glad I got to share a little of it with you, Broles.”

There’s something under his words that Broly can’t quite decipher.  He wants to think it means more but he knows that that’s foolish.  Turles doesn’t like him that way.  No one does.

“Sure,” he says quietly.

Broly ducks his dead down and moves his rice around with the ends of his chopsticks.  Turles didn’t do everything with him but he’s spent time with him and included him in some of his traditions.  It’s the most anyone’s ever done for him for the holidays.  Previously, he worked and everyone was too poor to really do much.

“Hey…”

He looks up and meets Turles’s eyes.  He’s looking at him very intently as if he’s trying to figure something out and Broly feels the back of his neck heat up.

“What?”

“I know you think I did this for you but...it’s nice to share this stuff with someone.”

Turles smiles slow and easy and, for some reason, Broly thinks he might kiss him.  His face is close enough that he can smell the fried rice on his breath and he feels his heart accelerate.  Heat and sweat break out on his temples.

“Sure,” he says.

“It means a lot to spend it with you especially, Broles.”

“Uh-huh.” He swallows nervously and it feels like he’s gulping a whole lemon.

Turles is so close to him, he can feel the heat radiating off of his leather jacket, but he  _ can’t _ be going to kiss him.  That’s not even within the realm of possibility, right?

Broly moves back slightly and the moment’s over.  Something changes in Turles’s eyes and he pulls back.  Plasters his usual grin on his face.

“Hey, wanna see me cry like a baby?” he asks.  He gestures in the air with his chopsticks and laughs. “Let me put in  _ A Muppet Christmas Carol.” _

He leans back further and blinks, wondering what just almost passed between them.  He swallows again and tries to follow Turles’s rhythm.

“You don’t celebrate Christmas,” he tells him.

“Yeah, but even a Jewish boy like me can appreciate Michael Caine getting schooled by a bunch of puppets.”

He has to give him that.

“We can watch one of my movies.”

Turles leans his head back and widens his smile.

“No offense, Broles, but I’ve done too many drugs and simultaneously not enough drugs to try and understand your esoteric, arthouse faves.”

He has to give him that as well.  Instead, he watches Turles set up their DVD player and picks at his food.  He isn’t sure what almost happened, but he knows that he doesn’t want to think about it.

\--

Bulma thinks dinner is going pretty well, all things considered.  Her parents had come in and told Vegeta, “Buon Natale!  Bulma tells us you’re Italian,” which made her wish that she hadn’t, but that’s been the only speed bump.  Tarble and Caulifla are getting on well and both of them seem to think her sister Tights is cool.  Trunks hasn’t revolted and thrown any food on the floor and she’s caught Vegeta smiling once or twice.

Now she just has to get through the rest of dinner, put Trunks to bed, and then have “good job on a successful holiday dinner” sex.  Bulma thinks it’s a nice plan until she hears a knock on the door.  She had forgotten about the little alteration she made to the guest list they agreed on.

“It’s open,” she calls and casts a glance at her boyfriend.  Luckily, Vegeta is bent over his plate eating and hasn’t looked up yet.

Tarble has and she sees him look at his brother with an apprehensive expression.  Bulma watches the man walk through the door and her first thought is that he’s taller than she thought he’d be.  Vegeta’s dad is easily at least six feet tall so she has to wonder why his sons are so short.

“Hello.  I’ve brought wine.”

At the sound of his voice, Vegeta pops his head up and the look he gives her is one of utter betrayal.

“H-hey, dad,” Tarble says. “If I knew you were coming, we could have driven over together.”

He forces out a laugh and shares a wide-eyed look with Caulifla.

“If I knew you were coming, I wouldn’t be here,” Vegeta says.

Bulma clears her throat nervously. “I just thought you two should talk.”

He drops his fork on his plate and glares at her.

“I told you if I was going to talk to him, it’d be on my fucking terms.  That doesn’t mean you ambush me with him at Christmas.”

“Listen--”

“No.  You didn’t fucking listen to me so why should I listen to you?”

Bulma presses her lips together and tries to swallow down her temper.  It’s her fault, yes, and he has every right to be mad, but god she wants to yell back.  His father looks at him and she hopes he’ll say something or apologize to make this slightly less awkward.  Bulma chances a glance at her parents who both look like they have no idea what to do or say.

“You seem upset,” Mr. Prince says.

“No fucking shit,  _ dad.” _

Vegeta stands up and makes his way around the table and she wonders if there’s going to be a fight.  Tarble scrambles to his feet and follows closely behind him.

“Why are you even here?” he demands. “I haven’t spoken to you face to face in years.”

His father sighs. “That’s exactly why I’m here.  I want to talk to you.  I feel like things between us are not good--”

“Putting it mildly.”

Another sigh and Bulma feels like she just got a snapchat of what it was like growing up in his house.

“My therapist says I need to apologize to you and to Tarble about how I’ve treated you and she’s right.”

Vegeta snorts and crosses his arms.

“You needed a therapist to tell you you were a shit father?”

Tarble puts his hand on his arm. “Hey, maybe that’s a bit unfair.”

Vegeta shrugs him off. “Tarble, you don’t get it.”

“Dad was pretty crappy to me, too,” he points out.

“He never told you that you were born broken.”

Tarble’s eyes go wide and he turns to join his brother in glaring at their father.  Bulma feels guilty but she still doesn’t trust herself to speak.

“Dad, what the fuck?” he demands.

Mr. Prince holds his hands up.

“I’m not defending myself because, yes, it was awful.   _ I _ was awful, but I’m trying not to be.  I want to fix things.  That’s why I’m here.”

Vegeta snorts again.

“Please.  You’re here because my girlfriend can’t mind her own business.”

“Hey!” she cries out indignantly. “This  _ is _ my business.”

“No it’s not.”

She stands up from the table and presses her hands flat against it.  Perhaps wisely, everyone--even Caulifla--is staying out of it.

“You’re my business,” she says. “I love you, fuckface!”

He falters for a moment in his anger tirade. “O-oh.  Well, alright, then.”

“I didn’t think this would escalate,” she explains. “I’m sorry.  I’ll think next time.”

Vegeta locks eyes with her and even though she can tell he’s still pissed, he gives her a slight nod of his head.

“It’s okay.  You meant well.”

Well, that’s one thing settled, but Mr. Prince isn’t done talking.

“I’ve been a terrible father to you and.” He pinches his nose and sighs. “You’re so much like her, both of you, and it scared me.  And I lashed out.  But that’s no excuse.”

“No, it’s not.”

This conversation isn’t going anywhere, Bulma concludes.  She  _ knows _ how hard-headed her boyfriend is and she has a sinking suspicion that his father is who he gets that annoying little trait from.

“Vegeta, will you listen to me?”

“I’m right here, listening,” he shoots back. “Look, dad, I’ve fucking figured out that you’re scared that I’m going to off myself like mom did, but that doesn’t excuse what you did to me growing up.”

Bulma cradles her head in her hands.  This isn’t what she wanted at all.  Now she’s annoyed, half of the guests are arguing and the other half are sitting in stunned silence.  The only saving grace is Trunks who doesn’t seem to be fussing or being cranky in the midst of it all.

“Alright, fine,” Mr. Prince says, “But I’m here to apologize and maybe try to work it out.”

“So apologize.  I’ve yet to fucking hear you say ‘I’m sorry’ for anything.”

Tarble nods in agreement.

“Alright, fine.  I’m sorry.”

There’s a pause and Bulma wonders if that’s the end of it.  If Mr. Prince said the magic words and they can go back to enjoying dessert.

“That’s a start,” Vegeta says finally, “but here’s the deal.  We talk when I want.  Somewhere neutral like a restaurant or some shit.  And you wait until  _ I _ call  _ you. _  That fair?”

His father looks relieved. “That’s fair.”

“Good.”

Vegeta turns away and Bulma thinks for a moment that he’s simply going to storm into their bedroom but instead he walks over to Trunks’s booster and unbuckles him from his seat.  He carries him over to his father and passes him over.  Mr. Prince looks just as surprised as Bulma is sure she does.

“This is Trunks,” he tells him. “He turned two last month--November thirteenth.  Trunks, this is your grandpa.”

“Hi,” Trunks says. “Don’t be mean to daddy.”

His father stares for a moment and goes, “I don’t want to be.”

Trunks looks at him very seriously before he says, “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> http://vertigoats.tumblr.com


End file.
